We Have A Lot To Talk About
by TheGryfter
Summary: Bare Your Soul - Pt1. Set mere minutes after the end of Stiletto... What happened after Lois hung up the phone? She'd proved with a few heartfelt words that Clark could, in fact, trust her. But that doesn't mean that it's an easy decision to make...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Written for the summerofclois fanfic challenge on LiveJournal.

My prompt was: Stiletto / Future, so I got to thinking... Since Stiletto is by far my favourite episode of the season - I never wanted it to end. So, what if it didn't? What if there was more to be said after that.

Pairings: Clois, of course. And Oliver's there too, in an advisory / snarky capacity.

I had a lot of fun with this, writing it in a few hours.

Please, Reviews are love...

"**We Have A Lot To Talk About"**

~*~

…**one - a conversation with oliver…**

~*~

"_I mean… you've dedicated your life to city full of strangers, and I'm not saying I know what it's like to be a hero, but… even the fastest blur in the world can't outrun loneliness…"_

Words shouldn't echo like that. They just shouldn't.

And yet they do.

Those words, spoken with a depth of compassion, reverberated in Clark's mind as he waited for the elevator to rumble to a stop.

_She understands. She gets it. She doesn't even know the whole truth, and it doesn't matter to her. She understands!_

Clark shook himself free of that thought, and wrenched open the guardrail, stepping into Oliver Queen's apartment. The lights were low, letting in the ambient glow of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Perfect timing," said Oliver, stepping through the door of the balcony, "I just got back."

He was still clad in his Green Arrow garb, though the hood was down and he favoured Clark with a smile.

"All quiet tonight?" asked Clark.

"Yup," said Oliver, "I hate it."

Clark smirked, "Why?"

"Everytime the city gets like this, it feels like… the calm before the storm, you know?"

"I know," said Clark.

"So…" Oliver approached the drinks trolley, casually flinging his bow aside as he went, "There a reason for the late-night call?"

He poured himself a scotch, holding it up to ask Clark if he wanted one. Clark shook his head.

"I came to return this…" Clark dug the tiny device out of his pocket.

He flipped it across to Oliver, who caught it with his free hand.

"The voice modifier?"

"Thanks," said Clark.

Clark mounted the steps and made his way out to the balcony. He leaned on the railing, drinking in the chaotic sounds of the city. Not for the first time he reflected on how different it was from home… from Smallville. The city had a pulse… an energy, that drew you in until your own heart beat to it's rhythms. Clark found that, day by day, he grew to love it more. And yet… there were some things he missed.

He looked up. The stars, for one. Even here, high above the noise and chaos, they were still pale reflections of the novas he remembered from the long nights in his loft.

Clark was snatched from his reverie as Oliver came to stand beside him. Sipping his drink, the tall billionaire held up the modifier.

"You done with this?" he asked.

"Yes," said Clark, "I have to be."

Oliver was thrown for a moment. He studied his friend's face. Clark's jaw was set, his expression determined, and yet… Oliver thought he detected a hint of sadness there.

"Who'd you call, Clark?"

Clark didn't answer for so long, that Oliver thought perhaps he hadn't heard the question – although that was impossible, super hearing and all. He was about to ask again when Clark said:

"Lois."

Oliver sighed. Taking a long swig of the 20 year-old single malt, he too turned his gaze over the flickering lights of the city, trying his best to find the right words to say. All he could come up with, was:

"You're a moron, Clark."

"What?"

Clark was, of course, startled. Oliver fought to suppress a grin.

"You want me to repeat myself?"

Clark just glowered. It was a look he had down pat. It was getting harder for Oliver not to laugh.

"Why in the world did you call her?" he asked.

"You saw the story she put out in the Planet," said Clark, "And then that stunt she just pulled… Stiletto?" he shook his head, "I had to give her something, or she'd never let it go."

"So, you gave her… what? A five second sound-bite, and you think that's gonna be enough for her? I'm sorry, but have you actually met Lois?"

"She'll let it go," said Clark, "She has to."

"Ladies, and gentlemen, I present to you… the King of Wishful thinking," Oliver couldn't fight the smirk anymore.

"Enjoying yourself?" said Clark, resorting to sarcasm.

"Why did you call her?"

"I told you already…"

"Yeah, yeah…"Oliver cut in, "You don't want her digging anymore. Whatever. What's the real reason?"

Clark shifted, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Oliver studied him for a moment. Clark was the world's worst liar. Not a particularly valuable trait in the man with the world's biggest secret to keep. Deciding to cut the guy a little bit of slack, Oliver switched tack.

"How did it feel?" he asked. Then, when Clark just frowned at him, he went on, "Being able to talk to her… as you? The real you?"

Again, Clark was silent for a long time, before: "Clark _is_ the real me," he said, "The Red-Blue Blur… he's just the mask I wear, so to speak."

"I think you're wrong," said Oliver, "I've been watching you this year. Being the Blur… you're finally the guy I thought you would be when we first met. But that's besides the point… you're evading the question. How did it feel?"

"Easy," said Clark, surprising himself with the admission, "She didn't ask anything of me. She even told me I could call anytime, totally off the record."

"Wow," said Oliver, "Are you sure she wasn't on something?"

Clark chuckled at that.

"She didn't dig," said Clark, "I mean… you know her. She must have had a million questions, at least, and yet… all she wanted to do was listen. She wanted to know what I needed. And that's…"

Clark trailed off, seemingly engrossed in cityscape.

"I repeat…" said Oliver, "You're a moron!"

So quickly that neither of them realised it, the conversation morphed into a full-blown argument.

"Are you ever going to get tired of that?"

"Not likely," Oliver stood up straight, facing him, "You're running scared."

"What?"

"You're making the same mistake I did when I was with her. I tried to keep her away from who I was. Thinking it'll be okay, and she'll be satisfied with half of me. Half my time, half my… devotion."

"It's not the same," Clark protested.

"Isn't it?"

"You were in a relationship!"

"And you're not?"

"No!"

"God, Clark, if anything, you're closer!" said Oliver, "You're partners. You share everything. Even when the kryptonite was cutting through you, you took a bullet for her yesterday!"

"Of course I did!"

"Why?"

"Because I love her, okay?!"

Suddenly, the sounds of the city went away. As if sucked into a giant vacuum all the noise, the laughter, the screams and the beating of Metropolis's heart stopped for that one moment. Clark stood frozen, unable to grasp what he'd just said. Oliver Queen smiled at his friend.

"Don't tell me, Clark," he said, "Tell her…"


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

…**two - a conversation with lois…**

~*~

When he asked himself about it later, Clark didn't really know why he didn't just go straight to Lois's apartment. She lived on the east side of the river, in an area called MorningCrest, a few blocks from the neighbourhoods that deteriorated slowly into Suicide Slums. It did, however, have a beautiful wrap-around balcony, and a view of the river that could take your breath away.

Clark stood on the roof of the building opposite, staring through the window, which she kept open, despite the chill of the evening. She was wearing those god-awful floral pyjamas she liked so much, with the fluffy socks that Clark swore, on her hardwood floors, were a health risk. She was perched on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal. Leave it to Lois to eat cereal in the middle of the night. She was watching TV, and laughing. Clark zoned in, using his super hearing, and picked up the refrain of an old episode of M*A*S*H. He'd introduced her to that show, if he remembered correctly. Long marathon DVD box-set sessions on the farm. Seems like something had stuck…

Clark was lost. Undecided. Oliver's words still ringing in his ears: _"Don't tell me, Clark. Tell her…"_

"Sure," thought Clark, bitterly, "Easy for you to say, Jolly Green Archer… she already knows who _you_ are."

But Oliver was right, wasn't he? If Lois' conversation with the Red-Blue Blur had confirmed anything… it was that he could trust her. It had confirmed something else too…

Maybe, just maybe, he needed her.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a future there.

Clark watched as Lois laughed at a particularly funny moment, bits of cocoa puffs spraying out of her mouth and onto the couch. He chuckled.

Yeah… he could do this…

A fraction of a second later, he was at her front door. He raised his hand to knock, and then hesitated.

"Pull it together, Boy Scout," he chided himself, and then cringed. Now he was calling _himself_ Boy Scout.

He knocked. He heard Lois lower the volume on the TV, and then the shuffling of her socked feet as she crossed to the door. A couple of seconds later, and she opened it, smiling when she saw him.

"Hey, Smallville," she said, "Past your bedtime, isn't it?"

"Not quite," he said.

Lois stepped aside, still clutching the bowl of cocoa puffs, allowing him to enter the apartment. Clark stood in the middle of the living room, hands in his back pockets, as coiled and tense as he'd ever been in his life. If Lois noticed, she gave no sign.

"This is a classic," she said, plopping herself back down on the couch, "The one where Hawkeye tries to win the pony."

Grateful for some kind of familiar ground, Clark lowered himself onto the couch next to her.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "The one with the priest and the rabbi."

He'd just resigned himself to at least ten minutes of gentle Korean War comedy, when Lois switched off the TV.

"Wha-?"

"Can I ask you something?" She twisted herself so that she was sitting, cross-legged, facing him.

"Er… sure.." said Clark.

"Wait, what are you even doing here anyway?"

"Um… I was in the neighbourhood?"

Lois cocked an eyebrow at that, but whatever was on her mind clearly took precedence and she waved away the flimsy excuse.

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you this…" she said, with the air of someone who really, really wanted to.

"Tell me what?"

"This!"

"What?

"_This!"_

"Lois," he said, "I think we can go around on this carousel all night, and not get anywhere."

"Something happened to me tonight," she explained, "Only, I sort of promised it would be off the record, and I don't know if telling you constitutes _on_ the record or not, but I really need to talk to someone about it, and I'm not sure if…"

"You spoke to the Red-Blue Blur," said Clark, deciding to take pity on her before she passed out from lack of oxygen.

"I… what?" she blinked, three times, very fast, "How did you know that?"

"The red and blue paper, with the message on it…" he said, "You walked past my desk. It's not exactly a rubicks cube, Lois."

"Huh…" she seemed somewhat disappointed that he'd cut through her ethical dilemma so quickly.

Clearly she had a whole rant prepared. She got over it, though.

"Right," she said, "Anyway, so… he called me…"

The smile that bloomed on her face at that one statement almost stopped Clark's heart. It was… radiant. And a little naïve. Like a sixteen year old girl who'd just found out that the guy she had a crush on liked her too.

"He spoke to you?" said Clark, trying to keep any kind of edge out of his voice.

"He did," said Lois, "Well… I did most of the talking, of course, because… well, it's me. And there was a point in there somewhere where I was really nervous, but that went away so quickly because, despite everything – despite who he is and all the amazing things he's done, talking to him was just…"

"What?" Clark prompted.

"Easy."

Clark was stunned, hearing his own admission to Oliver thrown back at him like that. Lois had the dream-smile on her face again. It was like Clark wasn't even there. The tension started to creep back in, sprouting at the base of his spine, and clawing it's way up with slippery fingers of doubt.

"What did he say?" Clark had no idea why he kept forcing these questions.

He was there, after all, and he recalled exactly what he'd said, but… for some reason, he needed gauge Lois' reaction to what he said.

"Not all that much, actually," she admitted, "He read my open letter in the Planet. Oh, and he knew about the whole Stiletto fiasco, by the way…"

Lois suddenly broke off, and rubbed a gentle hand down the side of his waist, her mood switching from excited to concerned as she recalled the bullet Clark had so _stupidly_ – and heroically – taken for her. Before she could finish her search and discover that he wasn't wearing a bandage, Clark grabbed her hand. His pulse quickened at the cool velvet feel of her skin, and he forced a smile.

"I'm okay, Lois," he said.

Lois nodded, trying her best to dislodge the guilt she felt.

"He told me I don't need a gimmick or a hero to make a headline," she said, "That I'm good enough, all on my own."

"I could have told you that," said Clark, with a sudden twinge of completely illogical jealousy.

"You have told me that," said Lois.

Silence settled for a little while. Clark took the chance to just look at her. Her eyes were fixed on a random spot on the floor. The glow from the streetlight outside cast a halo over her mussed hair. The corner of her lip was pinched between her teeth – an indication that she was deep in thought. She wore no make-up, the pyjamas were ridiculous, and yet, to Clark, she'd never looked more beautiful. He felt the strongest urge to just say it. To lay it out there, come what may…

"I told him to call me," said Lois, before he got a chance.

Clark kept quiet, not quite trusting that he'd have full control over any words that might come out of his mouth.

"But now…" she went on, "I don't think I want him to."

Okay, that was a left-field statement.

"What? You don't? But… you've been searching for this guy for months."

"I know," she gave a little moan, "But now that I've talked to him… I came seriously close to breaking it. Don't you see that?"

"Uh, no…" Clark confessed, "Breaking what?"

"The illusion."

"Oh. That." He said, still not getting it.

Lois clicked her tongue at him.

"He's so far beyond any of us, Smallville," she explained, "He's… a hero. A real-life hero. How are we ever going to understand someone like that? What makes them tick? Who am I to presume that I can form any kind of bond with the man who chose to save us all? To give us all hope? I'm just… Lois Lane. And he's…"

_Me…_

Clark didn't say it. He caught the word before it breached his lips and swallowed hard instead.

"He's still just a guy, Lois," he said.

"But I don't want him to be _just a guy_," Lois persisted, "Talking to him tonight – as great as it was – it almost… took away from it. I know how stupid that sounds considering I all but harassed this guy, trying to get him to talk to me. I put yours and Jimmy's life in danger to flush him out, and now I sound ungrateful, but I think…" she paused, gathering her thoughts, "I think I need him on that pedestal. I think we all do. Because if he steps off of it, and walks around down here with us… what do we have to strive for? To live up to? Is this making any sense?"

Clark took his time answering her question. For whatever rambling-Lane reason, what she was saying did make sense. He could understand it. And his heart broke because of it.

"Yes," he said, softly, "It does."

Lois seemed pleased that he'd grasped her meaning somewhere in all of that. Clark somehow made a superhuman effort to keep smiling, when he was dying inside.

He'd come here with every intention of telling her who he was.

He'd come here with every intention of telling her how he felt.

He'd come here knowing that he couldn't confess one, without the other.

And that brief candle of hope that had flared to life inside him, standing on Oliver's balcony, first flickered… then died.

"I should go," he said, letting go of her hand and rising to his feet.

"Already?" Lois was surprised, "We can watch a couple of episodes," she nodded at the TV, "I have the whole third season here. _Your _ third season."

"That's okay," said Clark, "Another time."

Lois nodded, but she was looking at him through hooded eyes, trying to gauge his change in mood. Clark turned away, refusing to let her see. Because he knew that if anybody could read him, it was Lois. And tonight, he didn't want that. Instead, he crossed swiftly to the door and pulled it open.

"I guess I'll see you at work," he said.

"Yeah. See ya, Smallville."


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

…**three - a conversation with no one…**

~*~

Clark didn't get far. Lois' building had a rooftop balcony, and he'd curled himself onto the hard stone bench. He couldn't go home. Smallville was too far away. Too far from her. Tonight, he didn't think he could bear the distance.

_Not that it would make much difference,_ he thought, _There's an ocean between us now. _

All Clark's life, he'd possessed one single fear: being alone. It had haunted him through his formative years, destroying his relationship with Lana, and bringing an edge to the friendships he shared with those who knew the truth. And now Lois had revealed an even harder truth… the Red-Blue Blur… or whatever he called himself down the line… would always be alone.

Because she was right. The Blur couldn't be an ordinary man. The people would not stand for that. He needed to be apart, above it, even if it was only a façade. Heroes always wore shining armour, astride their giant white stallions, and villains wore cloaks of night, and bared their teeth to reveal curved fangs. In the eyes of those who looked at them, there was no shade of grey… only a thin black line, drawing the barrier between hope and despair.

Clark did not want to be loved for being a hero. Clark did not want to be loved for the feats he could perform. Clark wanted to be loved… for Clark. What he'd told Oliver was true. The Red-Blue Blur was just a disguise… he was still, and always would be, Clark Kent. And he knew, somehow, that that would never be enough.

Clark gritted his teeth, blinking back a sudden wave of angry tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way. But this was his road, his future, as hard as it was to accept… and he would walk it. Though he left fragments of his heart scattered upon the path.

Through the tears he glimpsed the shadow stars, murky, and blurred in the haze of the city lights and suddenly he wanted to scream.

_This wasn't right!_

Vaulting off the bench he swung around, taking in the stacked mass of skyscrapers around him. He glanced up. There, directly ahead, was the Daily Planet – the bronze globe glittering as it spun above the city. Just beyond it, the LuthorCorp building. And beyond that, the Titan Tower. The tallest in Metropolis.

Clark pumped his fists, spitting out a series of short, sharp breaths, psyching himself up. Funnelling his energy into the soles of his feet he pushed off, flashing across the roof until he came to the edge, and then… he leapt…

The Daily Planet was a good twenty blocks away and halfway there, Clark realised he'd misjudged the distance.

He was coming down way too fast.

The edge of the building was just that bare inch too far and he windmilled his arms, desperately clawing at the air in effort to reach…

Just…

That..

Little…

Further…

He struck the lip of the roof dead-centre with his chest, knocking out a sizeable chunk of masonry in the process. All his breath exploded from his lungs with the impact. Groaning, Clark hauled himself up onto the roof.

He laughed.

The sound was high-pitched, manic, with a little hint of hysteria.

And then he did it again.

Launching himself off the railing of the Planet, he soared through the air and clipped his feet on the neon 'C' of the LuthorCorp sign, sending him into an ugly somersault as he flopped onto the roof.

Up again in an instant, Clark swung his eyes up and took in his next target.

The Titan Tower.

A full thirty stories higher than LuthorCorp, it stretched into the sky, an ugly metal and glass behemoth. Still feeling more than a little crazy, Clark grinned. The air crackled as he ripped through it, whipping through the intervening space, straight at the side of the huge building.

Then, Clark realised, he'd misjudged again. It was getting to be a theme, that night.

Pumping his arms, trying to will the wind-currents that swept between the high-rises to carry him on, Clark fixed his sights on the flags that hung from the side of Titan. Straining every inch of his six-foot four frame, he scrabbled at the slippery cloth, finally clutching it in his fist as he swung, almost perpendicular, before his trajectory reversed and he came back again. Clark waited until he was at the top of the arc …

And then let go.

For a blissful instant, he was weightless.

Suspended on a dream of flying.

Then his right hand shot out, grabbing hold of the metal siding on the corner of the building. His fingers dented the thick metal, fusing into the shape of his hand as his body collided with unforgiving face. Holding on, Clark swung his left hand up, tearing another handhold a couple feet above the first.

Clark started climbing.

He dug his way up, the sound of the breached metal like nails on a chalkboard as he clawed his way up… up… twenty stories.

At long last, he breached the top of the skyscraper, and rolled onto the flat roof.

Clark just lay there, his breath tearing out in ragged gasps. He realised, with some shock, that he was still crying. Furiously wiping them away, he finally saw what he'd come all this way to see.

There, high above the pollutants that cast a blanket over the city… were the stars.

The real stars. Diamonds on a field of jet, glittering like sprinkled silver dust. The constellations seeming to swirl in a dance of their own making. And in every single one, every pattern in the unknowable universe…

Clark saw her face…

"Lois…"

~*~fin~*~

**So...? What did you think?**


	4. Sequel

A/N: Hey everyone… As requested, I've started the sequel to this story. To be honest, I didn't think it needed a sequel – the ending was just the ending, in my head, at least. But you guys, who were so great when reviewing the story, demanded closure. Who am I to say no?

I noticed a few people put this story on Story Alert, hence this little note. The sequel 'Under Pale Moonlight' can be found on my profile. I hope it matches your expectations. I'll be writing it fast, don't worry.

It's taken this long to get here because, like I said, I didn't think this needed a sequel, so I was stumped for a place to start. Then I watched Injustice and Doomsday again, and the answer came… Anyway, please read on… and I hope you enjoy.


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